Two Dreamers
by Call and Answer
Summary: The Pumpkin King was everything you could want in a ruler. Intelligent, dashingly handsome, a calm face in the midst of danger. If only he would stop running with a certain science-experiment-gone-wrong when he's needed most. Pure Johnlock fluff


The ceremony should have been a complete success.

Every corner of their world had been prepped and trimmed with twice the cobwebs, lit up with the brightest jack-o-lanterns and each tombstone polished. Even a full moon shone that day, without a cloud to impair its shine. It would have been their greatest Halloween to date.

Mycroft Holmes, as mayor of Halloween town, insured that this goal would be achieved. It was his honour and his pride to aim for the best. He made it his personal duty to ensure each witch, goblin and ghoul was at their scariest, and every creature at their most gruesome. Three hundred and sixty-five days of preparation would not go to waste as long as he was on the job.

But it seemed that would be the case, if his idiot brother didn't show up.

"_Is there anywhere we've forgotten to check?!_"

Mycroft spoke firmly to the citizens from a platform with a comically large megaphone. The ghouls of Halloween town looked at one another in distress. They all gathered in at town square, surrounding the Mayor, who stood overlooking them with and unhappy twist in his mouth. Henry, a skinny werewolf dressed in tatters, that may have been clothing once, was the first to answer. "We've checked all of his favourite places, sir. I checked the pumpkin patch, the town hall, and Molly here checked the mausoleums," He gestured over to the slight woman in a horribly stained lab coat, who promptly shrunk back out of site, as she was uncomfortable with too much attention. "What if we can't find him in time for Halloween?"

The crowd erupted into distressed murmurs.

"We could always just go on without him." A witch suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sally. We can't have Halloween without the bloody _King of Halloween._" A mummified man, Lestrade by name, snapped at her, prompting her to slunk back beside a warlock with criminally greasy hair.

"People please," Mycroft cut in, trying his best to hold on to his last bit of patience. "Might I remind you all that we have a scant four hours until midnight? If we do not have the Pumpkin King located by that time..." He shuddered to even speak of the consequences.

One of their senior vampires cut through the crowd. "What about that rag man living with the Scientist up the hill?" she piped in. "He's such a sweet boy, and he's always tagging about with the King. He'll know where to find him."

"Yes, thank you for the suggestion Ms- urm-Mrs-"

"Mrs. Hudson, love."

"Mrs. Hudson, thank you," Mycroft dabbed at the sweat beading at his forehead with a spider silk handkerchief. "Now, would someone_ kindly _go and ask for this man's assistance? Let's all remember _four hours left, _yes? Hopefully that is enough incentive." He stepped down from his platform and handed his megaphone to where his PA sat atop a stone ledge, the latter not bothering to look up from the large book in her lap.

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, being kind ghouls, volunteered to fetch the man from the scientist. Mrs. Hudson knocked firmly on the tower's steel door. Lestrade fidgeted with his bandages and had his had slapped aside by the older vampire. "Don't fuss with them, dear. You'll come undone again."

The door was heaved opened and revealed a stern face woman in a white lab coat, similar to Molly's, significantly less stained. "Can I help you?"

They plastered on their most charming smiles, both of them coming up short due to Lestrade's mummy wrap covering most of his face and Mrs. Hudson's possession of rather horrifyingly sharp fangs. The scientist stared indifferently and waited. Lestrade finally cleared his throat and spoke.

"We were wondering if we could borrow your patient for a bit? It's very urgent."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "My patient is under tight supervision due to some problematic behaviour regarding his treatment. I suggest you look somewhere else." She began to ease the door shut again.

Mrs. Hudson stopped the act with a hand on door's edge, before it could be fully closed in their faces. "Oh please reconsider! If we don't bring him, our Halloween will-" Lestrade clapped a hand over her mouth, causing the scientist's eyes to further narrowed into menacing slits.

"Oh, I see," The woman hissed as she attempted to pry Mrs. Hudson's fingers from the door. "It's that _King _again. My creation will not be associating with that man. He is not ready to be exposed to such- to such a-" she stuttered and scowled, the mere mention of the Pumpkin King provoking a lack of articulation to her usually analytical mind. She finally pried Mrs. Hudson's fingers loose. "To such a _stupid face_." The door slammed shut.

Mrs. Hudson cradled her abused hand and Lestrade stared blankly at the door. "Well, that went well..."

The scientist grumbled and fumed up the stairs of the tall tower.

Of all the nerve. Asking to take away her grandest achievement in his delicate state? As if that star gazer of a King hadn't corrupted him enough.

She finally reached his room and knocked lightly against the door. "John? Have you gone over our little discussion?"

Silence.

She knocked again, Harder.

"Now John, the more you sulk, the less progress we make. This is for your own good."

More silence.

She slowly shifted the door's lock and pushed open, only to be greeted by and empty room, and a breeze that floated in from a large bay window that had been shattered.

"Oh for the love of- Not again!"

In the graveyard, the moon shone at its brightest. In its fullest phase it seemed to look close enough to reach out and touch, and bright enough to light every tomb stone face. It cast a long and winding shadow of a spiraling hill, that was the centre piece of the cryptic graveyard. It also cast the shadow of a tall, thin man, with long legs and a thick mass of curls on his head.

He looked out at the moon from the top of this cliff, his eyes icy and piercing, giving the impression that his wished to set the space rock aflame. His black pinstripe suit was sharp and pristine, and his spider bowtie perfectly aligned. He looked every bit of the King he was.

There was a disturbance in the perfect silence that encased the resting place. A rustling of leaves from within the tombstones.

The King turned from the moon and scanned the different cravings for the intruder. Knowing he was caught, a lone figure stumbled out from his hiding place.

He was covered in thick black stitches, from the tips of his feet to the top of his blonde head. He wore a jumper that looked as if it had once been several jumpers that had been sent through a shredder, then sewn back together again into to make one whole. His pants were no exception to this design. He let a small smile dance across his sweet face.

"Your creator tried to locked you up again, I see." The King droned, attempting to sound as blasé as he could manage.

John, the living rag doll beamed and walked towards the him, swaying and stumbling every few steps. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, my King?"

The royal let a small smirk slip and rolled his eyes heavenward. "What? Don't tell me you've never slipped out of site and sent people mad searching for you."

"Only to see you."

"As well as pissed off your scientist."

"Yeah, that too."

John looked up at the King from the foot of the hill. "You can't keep doing this, Sherlock. Mycroft looked like he was ready to short circuit."

Sherlock's smirk widened into a pleased grin. "If only I could have been there..."

As soon as it came, all emotion wiped from the King's face and he turned back to look at the moon, a profound sadness coming off of him in thick waves. The King was raw in these moments, when his eyes were on the moon. It was a sadness that John knew ran too deep for words to lighten. When he finally reached his side on the hill, he reached out and twined their fingers.

"Do you ever just... Wish for something more that this world, John?" He did not turn when he spoke, but the light squeeze of his fingers prompted John to answer.

John let out a heavy sigh and joined Sherlock in his pursuit to stare holes into the moon's surface. "I was trapped on a examination table most of my life. And then trapped in a tower. Of course I've wished for something more."

The moon shone an eerie yellow, that bathed them in a light that almost looked like twilight. It contrasted beautifully against the black sky. _What a perfect night for Halloween _John couldn't help but think.

"Yes, it would seem so." Sherlock murmured, looking pleased with the surprise on his companion's face.

The rag doll man shook his head and laughed. "You really need to stop that." John mock scolded. He was used to the King's superb skills of observation, more so than most, but the man still managed to catch him off-guard. Sherlock merely heaved out a bone deep sigh, one that seemed to deflate any good humour he had possessed.

John freed their fingers and brought the taller man's face between his hands, just to make sure his eyes stayed in one place for a moment.

"I wish I could do the same. Read your thoughts, I mean. I know you love being King, but you always wander off when duty calls. What if you wander off one day and I can't find you?"

Sherlock bent and rested his forehead atop John's, his eyes sliding shut. "Don't be foolish. You always find me."

John pulled away and tugged on the sombre Royal's hand. "Come on. If we hurry we can pop in to the ceremony right on time. Won't that send the crowd wild? And Mycroft'll be tickled pink, for sure."

Sherlock through one last unreadable look over his shoulder at the moon, almost at its peak in the sky, before letting John lead him back through the graveyard.


End file.
